Oh, Lazarus
by LittleDarlingXOX
Summary: Jason still has those bad nights. The ones where he dreams about the Joker, his death, and his resurrection. And when he startles awake in a cold sweat, gasping like he just clawed his way out of his grave, his only comfort is the warm press of his lover's body next to him.


Jason's tied to the wooden chair, ropes tight and unyielding around his upper arms. He can feel the bite of the handcuffs at his wrists as he tugs fists— that are clenched with strain, apart. He knows it's useless...it's always useless as he watches the timer tick down the seconds. _00:06_. He tries not to let his eyes wander to the explosives that litter the floor about him like dead bodies, but he stares in unsuppressed panic anyway. He's had variations of this dream before and the fear that rises up from within him is always a constant.

"_Who killed the Cock Robin?_" A voice echoes about his head as the darkness closes in on him from all sides. It floods over the floor and the walls, the explosives disappear, as does the chair, but Jason still can't move. He's held by invisible bonds. At first he thinks it is the voice of his mother, for he remembers how she use to read him that same nursery rhyme as a child. But the voice brings no face to mind. Not his mother, not Bruce, and not _him_, though Jason can't stop that skin crawling feeling that he's hiding just out of sight, lurking about in the darkness. He expects to hear that mad laugh any moment, but he doesn't. Instead a bird drops onto the floor at his feet. Blood stains cement and Jason stares horrified at the little robin with its snapped neck. It's dead eyes staring up at him.

"I, said the Sparrow," Jason replied, voice hoarse as the words came crawling back to him. "with my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin."

"_No,_" the voice answered him, mocking him. The darkness lessened around him and Jason found he could walk forward even though he doesn't want to know what awaits him ahead. "_With his stupidity and uselessness? He killed himself._"

_ "uselesssss..." _the word is hissed in his ear.

Jason whips around, eyes boring into the darkness around of him, trying to find the source. His breath comes hard and fast from his lungs, fogging the air around him.

_ "he killed himself..."_

_ "killed himself..."_

That's when Jason heard it, _finally_...the insane crackle of glee. Such uncensored madness. Jason covered his ears with his hands, hoping to drown it out — the only noise that could still make him freeze with terror, but nothing could drown it out once it was in his head. The Joker, he was coming to get him... Jason ran, sprinting heedlessly, his only thoughts were of escape.

Jason pulled up short, nearly pitching head first into a ditch. He was saved only by the dig of his heels into the dirt and his arms that spun like propellers at his sides. At first it was impossible to figure out what he was looking at, and then Jason made out the shadow statue with its black wings and hood, hands clasped as if in prayer. Then the grave marker appeared, and Jason's insides turned to ice as he gazed at his name engraved in the stone.

"No, no please..." he dropped to his knees, and crawled forward, leaning dangerously into the ditch, hoping against hope that he wouldn't find what he knew was already there. The casket lid flipped open to reveal his prone body, skin creamy white in a way it had never been in life, dressed up in a elegant black suit and laid out on a bed of white roses. He could hear the beep of the timer as it clicked down the remaining seconds. _00:05. _Running out of time...he's going to catch you.

"_Why are you back?_" a voice whispered, and Jason stumbled back as the boy in the coffin, this dead Jason, stared up at him with blank eyes. "_You should be down here. Rotting six feet under the earth_."

_00:04_. Jason thought he could sense something moving about behind him, but his eyes were transfixed in horror as he watched his body deteriorate in front of his eyes. His suit and tie were replaced by the destroyed remains of his Robin suit that still reeked of smoke from the explosion that killed him. His skin decayed exposing his bones, his eyes rotted and eventually disappeared leaving behind empty eye sockets and a mocking grin from his skeletal jaw.

"_You're dead_," his corpse-self whispered to him. "_No one cares about you. You failed._"

"No," Jason whimpered. "I'm didn't fail. I'm a good soldier. I didn't fail him..."

A shadow loomed up over Jason's hunched formed. He turned to see Batman standing over him, expression grim. "Jason, my fault, my greatest failure..."

"It's time to go back to sleep, little birdie!" Batman stepped to the side and standing behind him was the Joker. He walked towards him, dragging his wretched crowbar behind him. Jason looked to Bruce, waiting for him to fight back, but his mentor did nothing but look the other way.

_Failure_...the words rippled around Jason's brain as the crowbar came swinging down on him. It caught him in the face, blood flying through the air as the Joker threw him arm back for another swing. And another.

_ 00:03. _Another blow. His rips cracked, puncturing his lung just like the last time. It hurt to breathe. Jason was slumped on his ground, knees underneath him and he curled his arms around his abused torso.

_00:02_. Jason stared at the Joker through swollen eyes as he tapped the crowbar in one hand.

"Say goodbye, little bird." The Joker smiled and kicked him backwards. Jason cried out as he fell into the grave. The lid slammed shut, blocking out the light.

"No!" Jason yelled, because he wasn't dead, not yet, and still he could hear the dirt being piled on, the weight of it pressed down on him. _00:01_.

He pounded his fists on the coffin lid. "Bruce!" he screamed.

"Help! Help me!" The tears came finally, sliding down his face and into his hair.

"Please..." he sobbed. "Bruce..."

Gloved hands closed over his eyes. The tears that still ran down his face collected against the fingers that cupped his cheeks. He gasped.

"No, not Bruce." The Red Hood said. "We'll prove to him wrong. We'll do things my way."

_00:00._

Jason's eyes flew open to stare at the dark ceiling above him. His hands immediately went to his eyes, feeling the stickiness across his cheeks that told him he'd been crying during his sleep. His chest still heaved his gasping breaths and he could clearly hear the pounding of his heart in his ears.

"It was just a bad dream." He muttered to himself, but the tears still welled up again like they always did. He pressed his hands into his eyes, trying to stop their flood. "...hell."

The body next to him shifted and suddenly Jason found an arm wrapping itself around his stomach. He turned to look at Tim's face staring at him from the pillow next to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tim asked, just like he did every other time this happened. Which, now, wasn't as much...but he still had the occasional bad night.

"No," Jason turned on his side until he was facing Tim. He pulled the other boy against his chest until Tim was practically curled nose to nose with him. "I just want to lay here and listen to you sleep."

He could feel Tim's sleep warm body pressed against him, a comforting feeling that seemed to leak warmth back into his bones. He sighed and kissed Tim on his forehead.

"Ok," came Tim's quite reply. "I love you."

"Yeah," Jason whispered, working around the lump in his throat. "I love you too. Go back to sleep."

Another bad night, another nightmare, but at least he had something good to wake up to.


End file.
